US Navy Commander Wayne Oswald Smith was born in Oakland, California on February 13, 1905, the son of Guy Window Smith (1882-1952) and his wife Marie Aura Heinecke (1884-1976). His parents were married in 1903 while Guy was the manager of the Wilber Walker & Company Hardware store. By 1920, he had become a traveling salesman for the Wisteria Heavy Hardware Iron Company.
Wayne enlisted in the Navy on June 1, 1930, and went through his initial flight training in Pensacola, which had become known as the “Cradle of Naval Aviation.” He returned to Pensacola in 1938 as a flight instructor and remained here until 1940 before being transferred to his next duty station. After his departure, he remained in touch with his Pensacola sweetheart Martha Hale (1910-1985), the oldest child of John Mathis Hale (1880-1960) and Elizabeth A. Pinney (1874-1944). In 1931, at the age of 21-years old, Martha went to work as a saleswoman for the San Carlos Hotel and eventually became the manager of the hotel’s cigar stand where she had met Smith. Her family lived at 801 East Belmont Street and Smith became a regular fixture around the house whenever he got liberty from the Navy base. Eventually, a heartfelt proposal led to wedding plans immediately upon his return from the war.
Meanwhile, Commander Smith was the flight deck landing officer aboard the carrier CV-17 USS Bunker Hill. As darkness descended on June 20, 1944, Admiral Marc Mitscher sent the first wave of bombers, along with every other carrier in the fleet, into the skies heading for the Japanese fleet. They had finally come out of hiding to oppose the Marine landing at Saipan, an island close enough to allow the Americans to bomb the Japanese homeland. Sadly, Mitscher's strike force, due to the distance, only had enough fuel for a one-way trip. Knowing he had just condemned all these young men to death he refused to send the second wave of bombers.
After his boys struck the enemy fleet, they began heading back home in the dark watching their fuel gauges every few seconds. To save as many pilots as he could Mitscher ordered his fleet to sail at full speed to reduce the distance on their return. They had already cruised over ninety miles closer to them from the time the mission had begun. The first group to return were the Hellcat fighters with larger fuel tanks, but many had already crashed trying to land in the dark. Some landed with only one gallon of fuel remaining. To aid them still further Mitscher issued his famous orders for all ships to turn on their lights to guide them. Then came the bombers coming in from all directions and desperately trying to land on any ship they could find as panic began to sink in. Even the radios were alive with chatter as others began to run out of fuel and crash into the sea. Some went into the water all together while others went down alone. Many began to ditch in groups of threes and fours so that they would be more easily spotted by rescue planes the next morning. These men were scared to death to crash into the dark merciless sea where they may or may not ever be found. Their voices on the radio gave clues to their fear and their constant need to reach out to each other to bolster their hopes. Some called out to their squadron mates while toward the end some broke down and sobbed over the air waves.
As they came in, Commander Smith was topside on the Bunker Hill trying to lend a hand to his weary crew. It was then that a Helldiver approached his carrier as the landing officer tried to coax him in. But the young pilot ignored every signal and came in at a steep angle and upon impact crushing his landing struts on the wood covered deck. This resulted in the fouling of the carrier’s entire flight deck thus preventing any other plane from landing. However, a TBF torpedo plane suddenly appeared out of the dark in a landing pattern as it approached the carrier’s flight deck. The landing officer waved his flags frantically trying to signal the new plane off knowing that the crashed Helldiver was still in the middle of the deck. But the young pilot would not be deterred from landing rather than crashing into the sea. He desperately attempted to stay clear of the wrecked plane by steering to the right. Nevertheless, the tip of his wing clipped a gun emplacement causing it to careen into the Helldiver, knocking down six of the struggling deck crew. Three of those men were killed in the crash, one of which was Commander Smith. The three bodies were quickly removed and buried at sea the next day due to the exigent circumstances. By dawn, all but forty of the over two hundred air crewmen had been rescued either during the operation or within the next few days. Nevertheless, their sacrifice helped deliver a crippling blow to the Japanese Fleet as well as eliminating forever any danger of interference to the Saipan and Guam landings.
While the battle raged, Martha had already traveled by train all the way to California on June 8th as she planned for his homecoming and their upcoming wedding. She was staying with Smith’s parents when word of his tragic death was received. Heartbroken, she stayed to comfort them for a short while longer and then returned to Pensacola to pick up her life where she had left it several weeks before.
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